


countess natalya ilyinichna rostova

by inkwellhell (georgewashingmachine)



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Ficlet, Love, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, lots of italics, natasha being a big bisexual, spelled andrey instead of andrei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13860708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgewashingmachine/pseuds/inkwellhell
Summary: a tale of the young russian countess, and those who managed to steal her heart





	countess natalya ilyinichna rostova

  1. _natasha & andrey_



It was hard to remember a love stolen by war. It was nearly all Natasha could recall of their time together: war. It felt like she’d only ever met him once, like she’d only had one chance to see his face, see his smile, hear his voice, before he was called away by a war that seemed to wish for Natasha’s unhappiness. The war had stolen Andrey from her all too quickly. She had the smallest glimpse, the smallest taste of him, before he was whisked away and she longed for him desperately. In the first few months of Andrey’s absence, she still loved him, she knew that much. Natasha still yearned for him to be home, still ached to see him, feel his touch. But as time waned on, she grew less fond of him, distance slowly draining her heart of love toward the man. And with her heart empty, the girl wished for someone to fill the gaping hole, and _oh_ did she find a fitting match. Her affair with a certain blonde man stole her attention from Andrey, lost at war with the idea of a young Natasha still captivated with him in his head, until letters detailing the countess’s affair reached him, informing how his love had refused him, for her heart belonged to another. Upon Andrey’s return, he found a Natasha that had completely forgotten the man at war, and thus he stole to his father’s chair, angry from a love whose loss he could have never prevented. His sister attempted to console him, though her attempts were futile as he simply yelled and swatted her away and refused her comfort. Natasha was completely oblivious of her old lover’s state, for her eyes were locked on a handsome man that had burst through the doors, and suddenly her attention wasn’t on the opera, but on this man, who would lead her unknowingly to her ruin.

 

 

  1. _natasha & anatole_



The moment Natasha laid eyes on him, she was love-struck. Upon seeing him arrive at the opera, she was attracted to him like a magnet is to iron. The two kept looking back at each other, their gazes never leaving the other. She swore the man could see right through her, what with how intense his stare seemed. Their conversation following the first sighting left her feeling weightless, intoxicated. Natasha was completely under Anatole’s spell, naivety and innocence leading her to trust this man she’d only shared a look and a few words with. By Sunday morning, Natasha was still totally captivated by the blond Kuragin, and his sister’s compliments and charm certainly fueled the flame. When Hélène offered her an invitation to the ball, the countess jumped at the chance and didn’t hesitate to nod her head _yes_ and accept the woman’s invite. She spent the time between then and the ball getting ready, decorating her person with a gown of pure white, accented with only the most intricate silver crystals. She matched perfectly with Anatole’s similarly ivory outfit – the two fitting together like a meant-to-be pair. They were flawlessly synchronized, always appearing to work in harmony, though the young Rostova was completely oblivious that she was under Anatole’s control. They danced away the hours, Natasha’s night ending on the high that she was given by the touch of Anatole’s lips. And she lived off of that high until she was supplied his letter, which she read over until she’d memorized every last word. She was the happiest she’d ever been in a long time, but of course it would last shortly. Her dedication to Anatole led her to grow angry at Sonya when she questioned the man’s true intentions with her. How dare her own cousin do something like this? Sonya swore she was only protecting Natasha, but to the countess it only appeared as if the girl wanted to hurt her. She shut herself away, faithful to the fact that Anatole would come and steal her away as his letter promised. And the days dragged on, but still Natasha stayed by the window, watching intently for any sign of Anatole’s arrival, her trust never wavering. He would come, she just _knew_ it. He would be here soon, and he would whisk her away and they would be happy together. She dreamed about that day for hours on end, wishing with all her might to see the blond man pull up to her door. And the day _finally_ arrived. She was absolutely ecstatic, overjoyed at seeing the man she’d dreamed of for days standing here, moments away from taking her into his arms and leading her away to somewhere they would be happy together. And then all of it came crashing down. Natasha could barely register what was going on, what with the house being torn into chaos. By the time she could finally catch her breath, it was night, and in the midst of her distress she made the brash decision to poison herself. What was there to live for, when she couldn’t be with Anatole? All it would take was a bit of arsenic. Just a dash, and it would be over. It actually surprised her, how easy it was. However, the initial euphoria of her decision wore off in the moments that followed her poisoning, and she rushed to Sonya’s room and told her cousin what she had done to herself before collapsing. She would awaken soon, free from danger but still weak. Following Anatole’s departure to Petersburg, Natasha thought a lot of him. She didn’t think of him as bad, she never would, nor did she feel guilt for sending herself to her ruin. But she did think about him, think about their time together, think about how things might have been different. Part of her believed she would never recover from the incident, and the more time that passed the more real that belief seemed. But then she found solace, in a man named Pierre.

 

 

  1. _natasha & hélène_



However, before ending our tale, we must look back at a time before Anatole has left for Petersburg, a time when Natasha was still fawning over him. A time when a certain woman had caught her eye at the opera, and the countess was told to stay away from a woman like her – the slut. Hélène Kuragina was the queen of society and sister of Anatole, and _god_ who knew the Kuragin siblings could both be so _gorgeous_? Though Natasha mainly longed for Anatole’s affections, she also found herself attracted to his sister in ways she never thought possible. Hélène was enticing and desirable in the most _wrong_ ways, but _god_ did Natasha just want to experience a night alone with her. But she felt _disgusting_ for lusting after a _woman_ because that just wasn’t how things worked, so she kept her attraction to herself, left her stomach churning and cheeks flushed hot while she watched the woman from afar. When Hélène stopped by to court Natasha and invite her to the ball, the countess noticed just how different they were. Natasha was simply a _girl_ in comparison to Hélène, who was entirely and purely a _woman_. Hélène was dark and seductive, reflected by her gown of emerald and ebony, while Natasha was innocent and young, snow-white and pure, dressed only ever in ivory garments. Their interactions during Hélène’s stay made Natasha feel lightweight and free while also flustered and confused at the same time. The older would flatter the countess with compliment after compliment, words like _charming_ and _pretty_ tumbling gently from Hélène’s mouth to Natasha’s ears, which made Natasha’s stomach whirl and her feet stumble, purely from the woman’s praises alone. Simply being talked to and touched by this _slut_ that had slept with _countless_ men made something inside her stir, perhaps because she was so pure and innocent in comparison. Part of Natasha thought Hélène was aware of her attraction, perhaps acting like _this_ simply to see the girl’s reaction, or perhaps because she felt something similar for Natasha. She may never find out, she knew that well, but it was nice to enjoy her fantasies about Hélène Kuragina while her stay at the house lasted, flirting with ideas that might never transpire, but were pleasant to dream about if they did happen to occur one day.


End file.
